What If You
by bethlyhem
Summary: Coarse language from the get go, rated M for later chapters. When a cruel world rips everything from you, what do you do? You become tough. And that's what she had to do. Bad summary, Dramione.
1. 1

It had been a few months since she had left Hogwarts. She was 18, there was nothing anyone could do about it – and she didn't have to worry about anyone judging her where she was now.

She thought she'd be okay without Harry – she was tough, after all. They all knew that Hogwarts would change after Dumbledore's passing, but different to that extent? They could never have imagined it. None of them could. Even with the Order inside the school, darkness was creeping in. What hurt her most was that she couldn't do anything about it, no matter how hard she tried. She was head girl, but she butted heads with everyone, and with no one to vent to, her anger got the best of her. She was in detention constantly, shouting and screaming at the top of her lungs, and had her title revoked and given to a pureblood. Gone was her swotty, good girl image within the school, leaving a void that she could never seem to fill.

Over the summer, her rose-tinted glasses had been stolen from her, forcing her to see the world as it really was. Harsh. Not only was she told that she was to be placed at Hogwarts rather than looking for the horcruxes with her so-called best friends, but the so-called love of her life turned out to be nothing more than a typical rat of a man. Days after the attack, after she lost everything, when she needed him the most, she found him in the arms of another woman. Who was now carrying his child and being given special protection from the Order. Her? She had been forgotten – well, almost.

After the attack, after she saw them together, she turned cold. No one could talk to her about it – she had already put that all behind her, unhealthily so. All she had left was her brains and her apathy towards nearly everyone. There were still some emotions in there – but ones only associated with the darker side of the emotional spectrum. Her lack of happiness, her lack of ties, made her perfect for various loose ends that needed "tying up". She spent a week in Romania with the Order, putting down a Vampire clan – a clan siding with Voldemort. The first time she shot one with her crossbow, it stung. What made her different to those monsters, killing because she was told to? But it slowly got easier, and the questions were replaced with apathy. She did as she was told, went back to the base, slept, ate and repeated. If her transformation from the bubbly, positive girl had not been apparent before, it definitely was on her return to London. The word 'distant' didn't really cover her behavior. No matter how hard Harry and Ginny tried, they couldn't get through to her – not that she thought they were trying very hard at all. They were young and in love, and that was all fine and dandy, but when a friend was going through something so… terrible, she'd like to think that she would spend time with the broken person before her, rather than sucking the face off her other half. But that was just her. No, that was the girl before everything came crashing down. She didn't really care any more. They became more distant, from sheer laziness and unwilling on her behalf, with this repeating throughout all her friendships. She withdrew from the family meetings with the Weasley's – she couldn't stand to see his face anyway, - backed down from anything that wasn't necessary, and locked herself in her room, only coming down for food. She didn't care that she appeared like a petulant teenager to Lavender or to anyone else – she was done with them all and wanted nothing more than to never see some of them again.

After she came back, the Order forgot about her unless they needed someone handy with a crossbow. They had scholars for everything else, why would they want an unqualified girl to help out? She was sent back to school with Ginny, with the sole mission of finding out anything she could to help Harry. Ron? She didn't care about him in the slightest. At first, she focused on her school-work as much as she could, skipping meals and sleep to keep up with her mission and her grades. Then she started to care less. What good would her education do her in the real world? A good job could never make her life any better. All the money in Gringotts would do nothing. The two things she wanted had been taken away from her in the space of days. She stopped shooting her hand up to answer questions in lessons, homework was done as basically as possible, if done at all, and she only attended the lessons she needed. She was a filthy mudblood in this world now, and her education meant nothing, so she slipped past punishment. The only reason she wasn't used as a torture victim for the Carrow's and Slytherin's enjoyment was because McGonagall was taking pity on her. Frankly, she'd had enough of the pitiful looks she got, and did everything she could to avoid them. That meant slinking back into the shadows, as she did as a child… besides, no one noticed.

* * *

><p><em>"Granger, I'm sorry."<em>

_"It's quite alright," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth, "I wasn't doing my job, it's only right it was given to someone else."_

_Professor McGonagall just looked at her. Hermione had lost everything, the poor girl, and instead of becoming a crying wreck like any normal human being would have done, she became hard as a rock. The reaction scared her professor – who had been there for her through thick and thin – but she'd changed too much, and had pushed any form of helping hand away._

_"Besides," her bored voice seeped through, interrupting her thoughts, "I was going to hand in my resignation and education termination papers to you next week. May as well do it now and get it over and done with."_

_Taken aback, Minerva couldn't say a thing. This studious girl, the brightest witch of her age, was giving up? So easily?_

_"Wu…why, Hermione? I understand that…"_

_"No, I don't think you do, Professor. I lost them, the 3 things that were constant in my life, and I have had to sit by for three months knowing what happened and not being allowed to do a thing. I lost the people who I thought I could count on… have you lost that, Professor? Correct me if I'm wrong." Anger was taking a hold of Hermione – one of the last of her emotions – and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep control of it for much longer. Her professor knew that too, and simply handed her the papers to sign._

_"You're still a member of the order, Hermione. We'll get justice for them, I promise, but for us to do that, you'll have to go back to HQ."_

_"Oh, I know," she said with a blank stare, "I just don't see why I should be expected to live with that slag and be reminded of everything every single day. So I'll be living in my parent's home, and I am only to be contacted when needed. I have all the books I need to help Harry, and I'll owl all progress in code to both him and HQ. Anything else?"_

_Minerva struggled to find her voice – the anger that was slowly seeping through was unnerving her. "That's fine. We do have one mission for you. I don't know how you'll complete it though…"_

_She couldn't help but punch the table in front of her. "I can do everything. Why you people think otherwise, I don't know. Is it because I'm not of the same blood as you all? You say you don't care, but words mean nothing to people nowadays." Leaning back in to her chair, she stared at her professor, trying to read her. She knew things were starting to get to her – they had always been close – but now wasn't the time to care about sentimentality. She had to get away from them all._

_"Of course not! The mission requires you to get close to a certain individual within the school, and I'm not sure how you'll do that outside of the grounds."_

_"Well, instead of assuming I can't do something, or might find it difficult, might I suggest that you speak to me beforehand?"_

_"Hermione, you know how hard that's been recently. Everything I do is monitored, I only have time now because there's a staff meeting that I wasn't included in."_

_"I don't really care, Professor. Just tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it. That's all you keep me here for, after all."_

_"We need you to get close to the Malfoy family. Draco in particular."_

_The chair fell over as she rose with such anger. She signed the piece of paper, looming over her now former professor, and stormed towards the door, turning back just before she reached it._

_"Fuck you."_

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><p>AN: hello :) this is my first post here. I've had this idea in my head for years, but I've only recently found the time to write it down. Constructive feedback is greatly appreciated, and although it may seem bitty, everything will be explained in the next chapter or two.


	2. 2

_A/N: In this world, the final battle took place – but Voldemort was only weakened. Everyone that died in book 7 is still dead – there was just a different outcome. Also, Hermione did not go with the boys on their hunt for horcruxes, due to circumstances that will be explained below. Hermione is very OOC; there is a reason for this, don't worry. Enjoy!_

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><p>It was 3 in the morning, but Hermione had given up on sleep. She kept dreaming about that night, and after that, sleep was useless. The dreams haunted her, even when she was awake… she did all she could to avoid them. All but removing her memory.<p>

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to go back to the muggle world. To go back to a place where she wasn't fighting someone else's war, where she wasn't considered scum by those in power… but she had nothing to go back to. She'd be even more alone in the muggle world – waking up to silence wasn't something she thought she could stand. She was used to the hub in 12 Grimmauld Place – the ruckus George was creating next door to her, trying to carry on with the business he and Fred had set up, Teddy crying, Molly trying to sooth him whilst cooking… she was used to it. It was constant, and she needed constant. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and opened the door wordlessly, and began to make her way downstairs.

She couldn't help but want to kick Lavender in the face as she passed her in the hallway – she probably would have done as well, if it weren't for the bump. Just because it's parents had been despicable didn't mean it deserved to be punished. Neither did her brother.

She wandered down into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes in her big jumper and shorts. Ever since she was a child, Hermione had never been able to stand having anything on her legs when she was sleeping, unless it was below freezing. Even then she wasn't comfortable with the duvet on her, but she learnt to live with it. She patted Ted on the head – calming him down instantly – and picked him up. Ted was the same age her brother was – nearly a year old – and playing with him filled in the gap that was created that night a few months before in the summer.

Hermione made her way to the bananas hung by the sink, Ted in arm, and began to mash one up in a cup for the boy, making sure she remembered to take one for herself. As she sat him on her knee, she noticed Lavender walk into the room and glare at her.

"You know, Lavender, it would just be easier to ask me to leave. Looks don't kill."

The girl only strengthened her glare and said nothing. Those in the kitchen had suddenly stopped whatever they were doing – preparing for the enslaught of swearing, physical violence and general nastiness that was about to come. Hermione took that as an invitation to keep going.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I seem to be mistaken," she said in a pleasant tone, as not to alarm the toddler on her knee, "if anyone should be angry here, it's me. So go and sling your axe into someone else's skull, I don't want any of your shit today."

Hermione placed Ted in his high-chair, with a lot of protest from the boy himself, and stalked upstairs, munching on her banana and ignoring the insults from the various paintings around the house. Both her and Lavender had left the school – but for entirely different reasons – and had nowhere else to go but here. Hermione was a saint, in her eyes, for even allowing the girl in to the house, but others saw differently. She was obligated to do it – throwing a pregnant girl to the curb was not the befitting thing to do for an Order member. Everyone had seemed to have forgotten that she was the one that drove an engaged pair apart. But, after all, it was only Hermione, and at the end of the day, she didn't really matter to anyone.

Once upstairs, she hauled out her trunk and began to pack. Even though just a few short minutes ago she had convinced herself that she needed to be here, she couldn't take the agro from everyone any more. All she did was mope, and curse, and mope some more – she was a hindrance, regardless of the amount of work she sent to Harry in order to help him. She left a short, simple note to Molly, thanking her for all she had done, and telling her that she was going to her family home. After her grandparents had died, they left her a large sum of money – just enough to get her through and rebuild the house. Being nice had, for once, paid off for her. It wasn't going to get her much further. She mentally kissed Ted on the head as she dragged her case into the fireplace. It was time for her to go. She needed to get out. She'd been forced to be strong after everything that had happened, so leaving on her own wasn't a big deal. She'd miss some of them… but they'd all abandoned her the moment she stopped doing as they asked without any hesitation, the moment she stopped showing any emotion. She was better off without them.

* * *

><p>It was utter chaos. Her house was alight, firecrews, police, ambulances… they were everywhere. All she could do was stand back and watch – she couldn't cast a shield and go in, not with muggles around. She ran to the right side of the house, where there was least damage, praying that her family were in there.<p>

The rest of the night was still a blur.

She remembered a paramedic coming up to her and patting her on the shoulder, giving her a card for a counselor.

She remembered someone putting a blanket around her and guiding her away from the wreckage.

She remembered the stomach-wrenching feeling as she realized she was alone.

She remembered answering questions as to who might have done this.

She remembered collapsing as she thought that the reason her family was dead was because of her.

She remembered the flash of blonde hair in the distance.

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. It was one of the few things that had been saved in the fire, as her bedroom was on the right side of the house. She could hear rattling downstairs. <em>Crap, <em>she muttered to herself, _I didn't have any alarms installed. Stupid, stupid girl. _She grabbed her wand and headed, cautiously, to the stairway. No muggle burglar was a match for her, but that didn't mean she was any less scared.

The lights were on in the kitchen, and she could smell jasmine tea brewing. What kind of burglar brewed tea? She transfigured her wand into a cricket bat and sprung round the corner.

There was a man in her kitchen, sitting, smiling at her.

A man with unmistakable blonde hair.

"Hello, love."


	3. 3

_A/N: My chapters have been short, and this one is no exception - I'm planning on making them a lot longer as the story develops, so please stick with it. This one is a bit bitty, and it will probably be re-written. I just needed to explain a few things and bring a few themes in. Thank you to all who are on alert - it means a lot! Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Shit.<em>

She didn't know whether to run or scream or stand and die in her kitchen. Whatever decision she'd have made, however, would not work. The wizarding world had decided that he was the second-most dangerous Wizard, only second to his master. Just like a loyal puppy, he followed blindly, doing whatever was asked of him, ignoring the commands of anyone but his master. She couldn't run away from him, if she screamed, he'd gag her, and she was almost certain that she'd be taken away and tortured before she was killed. She stood her ground – death no longer scared her. She had nothing left to live for. Torture was a different thing entirely – but it would lead to the same end, and she'd finally be at peace.

He stalked towards her, as if her were a lion, she his pray. He all but purred as he walked around her, observing every inch of her. Hermione felt more than uneasy – there was a look in his eyes that she didn't like one bit.

"I know your Order sent you to spy on me, Princess," Malfoy whispered in her ear, "so imagine my surprise when I didn't see you for months. I couldn't help but be curious as to where you had gone... silly girl, leaving yourself so vulnerable out in the muggle world. " He tutted, coming round to the front of her and moving in, so he was only inches away from her face. "Why did you leave, love? Did that rat drag you away from me?" A smile spread across his face as the look of realization dawned on Hermione's face. He'd done the same to Ron as he had to her family… for the first time in her life, she felt indescribably sorry for Lavender, and her little baby. Dear god.

"You monster." Hermione all but whispered. "How could you do that? HOW COULD YOU?" Her voice escalated, and she was bound to wake her neighbours. But she didn't care at this point. "He was about to become a father… he was caring, helpful… I… why?" she all but screamed, getting even angrier when she realized he didn't even flinch at the sound of her voice.

"All in good time, Princess, all in good time." He smiled, grabbing a hold of her lower arm. "Now, you're going to be a good girl for me and be quiet. Understood?"

Hermione began to protest, when she felt a striking pain rattle through her ribcage and down her spine. He'd begun the torture. She couldn't even scream out for help – the pain had consumed her.

"Glad to see we're on the same page. Now," he drawled, "you are going to go back to your precious Order, and you're going to take on the job of spying on me. The closer you are to me, the better."

Hermione mustered her strength and shook her head. She wasn't going back to that godforsaken school, there was no way in hell.

"Oh, don't worry about Hogwarts, you won't be going there." He continued, as if reading her mind. "I commute from my home to school on a weekly basis, sometimes nightly. You'll be staying in my quarters."

Between the pain in her ribs and her decreasing ability to read, she was confused. Why was he doing this? She understood that they had never seen eye to eye, but why couldn't he just get it over and done with and kill her now? Why?

He crouched down to her level on the kitchen floor and began to stroke her cheek. "Be a good girl and I won't have to do this again. I'll be keeping a close eye on you, love, so make sure you behave." He released her from the spell and walked to the kitchen door. As she got up, she hobbled to the place he had stood, outside, only to find he had gone.

_I thought I'd put up apparition wards… damnit, he's good._

* * *

><p>He didn't know when it had started. He presumed after she had punched him in third year and shown him her backbone… he'd always liked the strong willed type – not that his recent choices in women would lead anyone to believe that. He kept them weak and stupid, bending them to his every will, as mere playthings. That's all they were, compared to her.<p>

After a few weeks, he'd begun to worry. She disappeared a lot from school, on mission for her precious Order, but she had never been gone this long. One face crawled into his mind – Weasley.

* * *

><p>He appeared at their campsite in the middle of the night, being careful to make sure Potter was elsewhere. He was not his responsibility – besides, he had bigger fish to fry.<p>

It was a simple incendio, slightly beefed up, of course, so no spell could extinguish it.

There was no better sound than hearing Weasley's screams for help.

* * *

><p>Hermione wasn't sure on how to contact the Order. She'd given up the right to secret keeper as she left, so she couldn't locate the house any more, and she had no owl to send a message. She certainly wasn't going to risk a trip to Diagon Alley to buy one, either. She couldn't help but sigh as she was in the bath, trying to sooth her aching muscles. There was no way she was going to be able to do this… she was going to die either way, so why prolong it by bending to his whim?<p>

She submerged herself in the hot water, breathing underneath the surface. The flood of water in her lungs felt strange, in a lovely, soothing way. She didn't feel empty, for the first time in months, in one aspect of her life. She pulled herself up, coughing, and got out of the bath, slowly and steadily. Wrapping herself in a towel, she made her way to her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar… she hadn't left it that way.

Constant vigilance.

She walked in to the room, cautiously, and checked behind the door and in her wardrobe. No one was there. She looked over to her bed, and noticed a note.

_Her name is Cecilia, and she likes white mice. _

_-D.M._

He'd prepared for the fact that she couldn't contact the Order.

She wasn't going to either.

She was prepared to fight. She knew she'd lose, but she wouldn't go down silently.

* * *

><p>He was busy charming a piece of jewelry when Socks entered.<p>

"What do you want now?" He said, not looking up from his work to the house elf.

"Your mother wishes to see you."

"Well I don't want to see her – I know what she's going to say. Do pass on a message though, Socks – I intend to go through with the plan, whether she likes it or not."

Draco looked down at the emerald ring in his hands – she'd soon be his, and soon he'd be whole.


End file.
